Brotherhood Delta
by muahahahaboo
Summary: A few American squads comprised of Delta and Rangers must fight their way out of a small city being attacked by Spetsnaz. This was typed almost a year ago. However, I did not get reminded of FanFic for quite a while.


CHAOS AND DESTRUCTION **BROTHERHOOD DELTA**

Author's Note: There are no chapters in this book. Simply a bunch of different point of views. All weapons and vehicles named are authentic. Some characters have some similarities to other real life people. Band-Aid is Reid. Sergeant Rakken is Daniel. McAllen would be me. Gerard's the main character and McAllen's the secondary. And as the name implies, Gerard is Jerrard. At times when two characters are together, they share a same point of view. However, at times, when they're still together, I'll provide a point of view for both. Rakken and Band-Aid are basically just two characters I made up. Some parts are skipped when it comes to different point of view because time goes on at normal. I don't reverse to go to someone else's POV. I admit I took some dialogue from the movie Black Hawk Down near the end. Also, I also have to admit I started to cry near the end. Read the whole book, and you'll understand. Course, to the Fanfic people, sorry about the no chapter thing. I also know I made several punctuation mistakes. Please read and review. I will not be working on this story any more.

CHARACTERS:

Master Sergeant McAllen: Delta Force

Staff Sergeant Michael Gerard: U.S. Army Rangers

Sergeant Rakken: Delta Force

Band-Aid: U.S. Army Rangers

Sergeant Rakken's Squad: U.S. Army Rangers

Sergeant First Class Gerard's Squad: Assorted

Master Sergeant McAllen's Squad: Delta Force

Other Characters: U.S. Army Rangers and U.S. Army Pilots

"Enemy armor coming around! Everybody get-"

Team Sergeant First Class Michael Gerard never finished his sentence before a Russian BMP-3 on the opposite end of the intersection finished it for him. He hit the ground, landing stomach and elbow first as the office building thirty meters behind him exploded.

He quickly placed his hands on the ground and hoisted himself up. As he ran to cover, his team was far ahead of him, and the BMP started firing its 100 mm main gun.

Debris and pebbles of rock hit him, with small explosions that were catching up to him. He rounded the corner just in time and with a yell, he said, "Into the alleyway! It won't follow us there!"

A mile east, Master Sergeant McAllen was tasked with holding the road that lead to town. His Special Operation Forces team had placed a barricade of automobiles, aided with the help of civilians who'd rather defend their country than run. The impenetrable wall of cars was 15 feet by 20 feet to prevent vehicles from going in. If the enemy BMP-3's went around, they would get a nasty, technological surprise.

"This is Bali! I have a BMP-3 and at least 10 Spetsnaz plus change! The BMP-3 is tracking us! I'm in an alleyway and we have the enemy armor and infantry tracking us! Permission to lead them to you! We can't hold 'em!"

"Calm down, Gerard. Get your team here safely. We'll be ready for you."

"Roger that, we're going to you now!"

"All right! Expect enemy armor soon! Get one of those Javelin missiles!"

"Vortex, this is Outlaw One. One of those BMP's and Spetsnaz are comin' my direction. My GPS says you're next to a water tower. Can you get your snipers up there?"

"This is Vortex, your question is a no-go. Spetsnaz infantry are up there. They'd see us trying to snipe them."

"Vortex, this is urgent. I'm having a whole battalion of BMPs and Spetsnaz infantry in a couple hours and a warm-up session in a few minutes. I'm not going to be able to afford to expend ammo. Backup from the Tenth Mountain Armor Division has no guarantee on what time they're going to be here."

"Negative. Spetsnaz are bearing down on our position also. We're holding out in a house and I have one wounded. We can't move efficiently, over."

"Roger that. But you have to understand that we only have 4 Deltas and only about 7 Rangers here and a small force of civilians."

"Yes, sir. I'll do what I can."

Sergeant Rakken had his hands full with wounded soldiers. At least 15 enemy infantry was closing in. Luckily, the Spetsnaz couldn't flank them due to only one entrance. He saw a Private next to the door stick her head out and raise her rifle only to be hit in the shoulder by one of the enemy's machine guns. He cried out and staggered backwards.

"Medic! Get the medic off the man and get 'em over here!"

The medic got up and pulled her away to a corner where he tried to patch him up.

Sergeant McAllen saw the Special Operation Forces team, finally going into the open where they ran the next twenty-five yards.

"Fire on my mark at the BMP! Ready… Mark!"

The Javelin missile exited its tube with a large flash and went skywards. The BMP rounded the corner and was going straight now, when the projectile literally landed and exploded on the enemy armor. No one in the tank survived, but several Spetsnaz still kept running, and when their weapons came in range, they started firing. The enemy had hit the ground and tried using machine guns to suppress his team.

McAllen got behind a wall, leaned left, aimed for a split second, and fired. The enemy machine gunner was shot in the head while on the ground, and his chin hit the concrete with his hands still touching the machine gun.

"Shit! Gunner's hit! Get the .50 up! Get the .50 up!"

"It's mine!"

Sergeant Zack had been driving through enemy territory ever since his convoy entered the cities. They still had many hundreds of miles to go to help secure the town that the Special Forces were trying to defend. Their next stop would be to rearm and refuel. They were still a few miles from being relaxed.

The crew now consisted of one driver, Zack, front passenger, one machine gunner, and the rest were dead.

"Fuck, I see 'em already!" Outlaw's civilian fighting force was panicking. After the small bit of action, the enemy battalion was finally coming. Vortex had pulled through and secured the water tower, which their snipers and the rest of the squad were now waiting for the order to fire. The battalion was approaching the roadblock and the infantry was confused.

"Vortex 3 and 4, your shot starts the action."

"Roger. Engaging now."

A clap of a sniper rifle sounded, and, with a burst of blood, the leader fell to the floor with brain matter all around him.

The enemy BMPs stopped and the rest of the enemy infantry used them as cover.

"Suppressing fire!" Before McAllen even finished his order, the Vortex's Squad Automatic Rifleman mounted on top of the water tower started using his SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) and flanked the enemy from behind.

The Sergeants' squads fired through openings in the barricade and enemy soldiers slumped onto the ground, dead.

Fire from behind and in front of the enemy erupted and the enemy made a futile attempt to return fire. The lead BMP started ramming into the barricade, destroying it slowly.

From the houses around the area lining the road suddenly emerged more than two hundred local boys and men armed with shotguns, pistols, and grenades given to them by McAllen's team. These rural boys had about as much heart and attitude as any men on earth.

This was their land. Their country.

The Russians had caused trouble before, with their nuclear weapons in the early 21st century, and now their descendants would be taught the same lesson that their dads learned. Sheer number and technological advancement alone isn't enough to conquer someone willing to protect their home. Never underestimate sheer force of will, heart, and courage to win.

"Good job Vortex Team. Keep the fire up." Rakken had shouldered his M4, also firing a salvo of rounds towards the enemy.

His Automatic Rifleman had stopped firing, just in case his bullets hit civilians. The snipers got up and Rakken fired a final burst. "All right, our job here's done. Let's get going."

One of the snipers got on the ladder and was about to climb down when a bullet hit him square in the neck. The dead sniper went limp, and he dropped to the ground, hitting many bars as the body went down,

"Shit! Tangos! To the east and north! Fire on the enemy!" A moment later, he yelled, "Crap, they're moving in with det-packs and RPGs! Don't let 'em get close to the tower!"

Now the Spetsnaz were scattered, returning fire at the civilians. Both sides were torn up as McAllen, Gerard, and their men saw buckshots going into enemy faces at point-black range and grenades dropping into hatches.

It was a massacre, and the Russians that shot back scored numerous kills.

During the fight, the Special Forces team could almost hear "America, America," the national anthem, playing in their ears and several BMPs lit up, smoke and flames pouring from their hatches.

A couple minutes later, the Spetsnaz had been overwhelmed; the surviving Americans had their forces dwindled down to about 50 people and only about three BMPs survived. Both sides would not give up, to the very last man. The armor rolled over people, and the civilians' small arms fire didn't do shit. The M4 SOPMOD and the M4A1 rifles could not penetrate armor and they could not risk using grenades.

Private Jones from Gerard's yelled out, "It's going around the roadblock!"

The lead BMP exploded, as did another. The last BMP finally caught on that there were mines, and it started using up ammo to destroy the minefield.

"Get one of the AT-4's! Fire on that bastard!" Gerard's rifleman unslinged his AT-4, aimed down the sight, and fired. A thunderous boom followed and the backfire of the weapon threw the operator back.

The vehicle had been close to the mines and the explosion of the missile combined with the chain explosions of the mines had destroyed it.

"Good job!" Gerard patted the man on his shoulder and suddenly, the man fell over. "Shit! Ditomasso's been hit! Enemy infantry! Take cover!" He pulled the man to safety and fired at the enemy, only revealing his head and rifle.

"This is Vortex, we see two recon forces headed towards you on both sides of the barricade. You are being flanked. However, at this time, we cannot offer anymore assistance. We have been compromised. Enemy is trying to move in with det-packs and blow our tower. We have more than one wounded. Vortex 3 is down. Vortex out."

"Roger that, Outlaw and Bali team copies. We got wounded too. Everybody! Fall back to secondary defensive positions."

"Hang in there. Just a mile to go! Fucking low horsepower. These things are fucking bullet magnets!"

"Sir, the Stryker in back of us was destroyed! We need to wait for the rest of the convoy!"

"Fuck that! We're almost there!"

"Sir, they're being massacred. We need to go back and support them!"

"Hey, you. Look in the passenger compartment. Everyone else except for our last gunner is dead! Now we've got to go too!"

Sergeant Zack didn't want to take any chances with going back. He had a mission to carry out, and it sure wasn't going to be his last.

"Band-Aid! Get up here!"

"Roger that!" Kaneshiro was the Gerard's team medic, and the team owed many lives to him. However, although he was combat-oriented, he always drew attention by doing something stupid sometimes. And Gerard always hated him for that. He looked somewhat Chinese or Japanese and American. Nobody asked him though. He could get pretty pissed sometimes. He joined the Army after just barely making medical school and soon made the rank of Corporal. He was taken into consideration for the Rangers with his determination and although he failed the first attempt, the Army wanted him in. On his second attempt, Sergeant Zack helped him make it through. "Where's he hit?"

"Chest! Maybe lung shot! Shot from the back!"

A few minutes later, the enemy in front had been neutralized, and the recon forces they had heard about arrived, allowing no time for a breather.

"BMPs and Spetsnaz past the barricade and the right! Fall back to secondary positions!"

Gerard had shot the last bullet that finished off the enemy, but scattered bullets from the recon forces to his right past the barricade had hit his arm.

"Arghhh. Band-Aid! Covering fire! I'll get Ditomasso to safety."

Band-Aid then ignored the wounded man and brought up his weapon, taking a car as cover. Gerard took Ditomasso's back straps and started dragging the man to the north, where Gerard's team had come from before the battalion had come.

"Move-up! At the corner now! The rest, you know what to do!" Sergeant McAllen had told part of his squad to lay down covering fire when the enemy finally got past the mines and barricade to allow the rest of the team to escape. Meanwhile, his riflemen would take AT-4s and Javelins to the building directly in front of road that faced the mines. They would destroy the lead tanks and make a roadblock, slowing down the enemy.

"Band-Aid! Get your ass back here now!"

"Yes, sir!"

McAllen had briefed Gerard's team this morning, and they knew what their next objective was. McAllen had told them to fall back to the third defensive position, just in case his team didn't make it.

McAllen had a bullet in his arm, and he felt it lodge close to the bone. He didn't care. That last transmission from Vortex team had him troubled.

Band-Aid was coming up, about to round the corner, when the first Spetsnaz appeared. McAllen and his squad had started opening fire, but the Spetsnaz reacted quickly, firing a salvo of rounds to the vulnerable Sergeant. Bullets hit his Interceptor armor and although the bullets did not penetrate, it hurt like a bitch. More bullets hit his leg, and they punctured the thick clothes. A sharp pain grew in his leg and he could not support himself anymore.

Band-Aid raced toward the downed Gerard, pouring every ounce of energy into his legs. He reached Gerard, slammed his gut on the ground, and fired at the enemy.

"Kaneshiro, you idiot," gasped Gerard.

"I know," Band-Aid said. "You ready?" He rolled the sergeant over and hoisted him up over his back, legs buckling under the man's considerable weight.

He walked a couple steps and collapsed.

Meanwhile, McAllen's squad had been destroying the BMP's that came and running down countless Spetsnaz, providing covering fire.

"Suppressing fire!"

"You're going to kill me if they don't," said Gerard. "Drag me!"

"Thought a carry would be faster." Rule stood up, came up behind Gerard, grabbed his back straps, and began sliding him over the concrete.

A sudden thud on Band-Aid's chest sent him literally spinning in the air, landing on his back.

"Band-Aid?"

"Yeah. Got my armor. Damn, I'm going to be sore tomorrow." He resumed dragging the Sergeant, whose legs were leaving a blood trail.

"Hey Kaneshiro, I didn't tell you this before, but you cast a big shadow, Ranger. A _big_ shadow."

"You're just saying that so I drag your sorry, shot-up ass out of here."

"That too."

When they rounded the corner, Gerard signaled Band-Aid to come close so he could shout in his ear. "You did good. I give you a C plus for the rescue."

Band-Aid rolled his eyes. "Thanks!"

McAllen told his riflemen to cease fire and come down to the street while his machine gunners were still firing. "All right. When the machine gunners stop to reload, we provide covering fire. When they finish reloading, we get the hell outta here."

Things had gone according to plan and by the time they started running, Gerard's team was already in place, ready to cover McAllen's team as they retreated.

"Get the Javelin and M249! Up here, to the sandbags! Band-Aid! Get your ass to my position!"

Band-Aid sprinted with remarkable speed to the sandbags, and crouched over to Gerard.

"Yes, sir?"

"When McAllen's team starts coming, there probably won't be a BMP for a few minutes. But it's almost a guarantee that one of his men will get hit running. Our M249 and the rest of our squad will be the ones dishing out the firepower. Your job is to rush out if anyone gets hit, and drag 'em back safely."

"Roger that, Sarge."

"Shit. The BMP's are getting through! We got to go, now!" As soon as McAllen said the order, his machine gunners had stopped firing and were already getting up. "Full cover! I'll give the order to run when the gunners are far enough!" After a few seconds, McAllen started counting down. "Three…Two…One… Alright, go!"

He had gotten a head start of his team, but he was never that fast. His machine gunners had linked up with Bali team and were now covering his team.

_Come on…Damn. I hear the BMPs. Come on, faster! Shit, Russians!_

McAllen had looked back and there was a Spetsnaz troop, about to fire, when he was blasted by rapid small arms fire.

_All right, enemy down. Look's like the machine gunners are goin' good._ _Shit! More infantry. Damn._

His team's first instinct was to fire, but they restrained themselves and kept on running for a full 10 seconds.

Just then, Gerard shouted out, "BMP! Rounding the corner! Now!"

Rakken had brought down many enemies, using his accuracy and the little cover available to his advantage. His team was nearly all slaughtered, with only a wounded sniper and grenadier left. His other men had been shot-up, red stains covering their fatigues.

Sergeant Rakken himself had been shot, a few bullets in the legs and arms, and his body armor had deflected the rest.

The sniper had been crouching using his M95 rifle as best as he can. However, without the proper time to find the distance and wind speed, not to mention a spotter, most his shots were off. However, the shots that made it were devastating. One shot, one kill, no matter how clad the enemy was in body armor.

The young Corporal Grenadier was doing the same thing Rakken was, hiding most of his body, except for the head, and sticking his M16/M203 out.

"Column of enemies there! Use grenades!"

The Grenadier had heard the order, and although he knew that his friends couldn't reach at that distance, he gave it a try. He jumped out of cover, and blindly launched his M203 projectile. The grenade had hit. All of seven men in that group were slaughtered, cut up by the shrapnel and burned by the explosion.

However, Rakken had seen, that in that single moment the Corporal had hopped out of cover, a hail of bullets splattered against him, and one caught him in the head.

"Noooo! Damn it!"

Rakken pulled out of cover, slammed his gut onto the cold, hard metal, and inspected him. The Grenadier had no life in his eyes; it had been that way since the bullet had gone through his skull.

"Goddamn it! Why don't any of my jokes get into that thick skull of yours?" Rakken stood up and threw a grenade. It exploded onto what was supposedly the commander, for the commander had been wearing a beret instead of a helmet. He had taken in even more rounds during those last few seconds, and he fell to the ground.

Next thing he knew, all the enemy troops were running away. What kind of miracle was that?

His M4 SOPMOD had landed onto the ground beside him. He felt weak, powerless even. All he could do was lie there. He knew he was going to die. He felt his very own life force draining from him. He knew that your life flashing before you in your eyes just before you die was a myth. A simple myth. Aw hell, he hadn't even found the right woman yet. But he wasn't going to die, not yet. He had to get his sniper out of here.

"Goddamn it!" He popped his head above the sandbags, and there was the sound of dirt being hit. "Oh, shit!"

"Stop drawing attention to yourself, Kaneshiro, and maybe the enemy will stop shooting at you. Now, get on that wound."

"Yes, sir." The person with the M249 had tried to displace, and got shot in the shoulder. "All right, you're not too bad. You can do you're job. Now go." The bullet had been lodged next to the bone and the wound wrapped up. Although this could sometimes prove fatal, it did not hit anywhere vital.

Just then, a bullet had struck McAllen. The round had penetrated skin, just below the jaw, into the neck. "Argggh!" McAllen fell to the ground and held the wounded area. He started to get up, using his HK416 to stand himself, commonly used with Delta Force. Surprisingly, the bullet had lodged and had not struck deep. He picked up his weapon and started firing again.

"Vortex!" Band-Aid tried to run across to McAllen, forgetting to crouch. A lucky round pierced his abdomen, just below the body armor! "Gah!"

Gerard, who saw that Band-Aid fell to the floor, ran to him. "Medic! Medic! Ruiz!"  
Ruiz was a medic too, from McAllen's team. He was a normal sized person, with dust all over his face. "Where's he hit?"

"Right thigh!"

"All right, lets get him into that building!" There was a bigger building, with columns for cover. Inside it was an empty, abandoned room with a metal counter. The troops rushed in, knowing that this was their last stand. In their third position, they had created a real blockade, and the BMPs could not bypass it, trying to ram it forward, but that made more of a jam. The enemy infantry had been dropping in with choppers. Javelins had hit a couple of them, however, the ones that made it were too much to count.

"Take cover behind the columns! Hold the enemy here! We have to make time for the convoy. Get the medic and wounded inside now!"

"Clear the table!" the medic barked.

"My right thigh!" cried Band-Aid. "Are… Are my balls okay?" Band-Aid was fighting the pain as best as he can, but even then, he couldn't seem to get his words straight anymore.

"You still have your balls. I need more men in here! McAllen! Gerard!"

The two leaders came jogging in, their troops putting pressure on the enemy. Ruiz had just finished cutting the upper right thigh section of the pants off.

"Oh man, that really-" Kaneshiro could not draw up the will to finish the sentence and he lay down, panting and screaming. "It really hurts!"

"Put direct pressure on that."

"Let me see it!" yelled Band-Aid

"All right, let me get a look at that."

When he stopped pressure and stepped back, a squirt of blood came flying out.

"Oh shit! What the fuck was that!"

"It's all right, it's all right. Hold that down! I need a medivac, now."

"Gunner, get me Sergeant Rakken, get me Sergeant Rakken!"

"Hoo-ah!"

"Hey Corporal. You're a sniper. Stay with me."

"The convoy's not gonna come for us. The convoy's not gonna come for us."

"I need you to suck it up for me Corporal. I need you to focus. Can you do that?"

Just then Rakken heard Gerard's voice on his headset.

"Come in, Vortex One! Come in, over."

Rakken ignored the voice and kept speaking to his soldier.

"Now, can you hold my weapon? Gotta take this call."

"Yes sir," the sniper mumbled, with his back against a tilted table. He had started bleeding from his mouth and the blood smothered his chin.

Rakken had black grime all over his face, and he was bleeding in several areas, including from injuries on his head.

"You're locked and loaded. Now, anybody comes through that door, you give 'em one in the head and two in the chest. You understand?"

"I'm still in the fight, sir. I'm still in the fight."

Rakken went to the back of the house to answer the call.

"Sergeant Rakken! I need a medivac here now. Corporal Kaneshiro's been hit!"

"Hold on, Gerard."

"Rakken, he's hurt pretty bad."

"Gerard, I got my sniper wounded including myself, and the rest of Vortex team is dead."

"Sergeant! He's hurt pretty bad."

"You're just going to have to maintain your situation, over."

Over the radio, he heard screaming and Ruiz yelling to Gerard, "If he doesn't get to a hospital in a half hour, he's in trouble."

"Alright," Rakken said. "Command, this is Vortex, I'm requesting medivac for a critically wounded at McAllen's position, over."

"Negative, we can't risk any birds. It's too hot. You're going to have to wait for the Tenth Mountain, over."

"Outlaw, negative on the medivac, over. You're going to have to hang on."

"Goddamn it!" Gerard swore under his breath and went to the doorway where Ruiz met with Gerard.

"You've got to take over fro me, both hands. It's the femoral artery. But I can't see it, which means it's retracted up into the pelvis, which means I have to find it and clamp it, it's the only way to stop the bleeding. I got no more IVs so… I'm gonna need you to assist, okay?"

"Alright."

McAllen approached the two and said, "Hey, I'll be outside. Gotta help the men."

"Alright." Gerard nodded and went to Band-Aid with Ruiz.

"Now listen Kaneshiro, I gotta do something and it's gonna hurt. Okay? I gotta cause you more pain, but I have to do it to help you. You understand?"

"Morphine."

"Sorry, soldier. It'll lower your heart rate too far, I'm sorry." Then Ruiz lifted his face and told the Sergeant across the table, "I need you to hold the wound open for me. When I pull out the artery, I need you to clamp it. Alright? Okay, 1…2…3."

Ruiz dug his hand into the wound, causing skin to tear and the wound to get even larger. Blood displaced and started getting on the table. Band-Aid lifted his head and started yelling in pain, but after a few seconds, he was completely knocked out.

"Wait, wait. I feel it, I feel the pulse. Alright, I got it. I got it."

"You got it?"

"I got it. Clamp it, now."

The Sergeant took the clamping tool and squeezed the artery with it.

"Grab it. It's tearing."

"I got it."

"Doc, it's going, it's going back in."

"Hold it, hold it!"

"It's tearing!" The artery slipped back in.

"Alright, get out. Hold the wound."

"Alright, I'm holding."

Band-Aid woke up, and his words were, "Fix it?"

Gerard faced the upright medic, and the medic shook his head slightly, from left to right.

"Yeah, yeah. We got it," Gerard lied.

"Look, by the time the convoy makes it there, they'll all be dead. Get the Little Birds armed, keep 'em goin' all night long."

"All right Corporal. Look, McAllen's team is about a couple blocks from here. I'm gonna need you to walk there. Convoy's not gonna pick us up unless we get there. Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Let's go."

"This is the Tenth Mountain. We'll be there in a couple hours. McAllen, do you read?"

"Roger that." McAllen turned around and told his squad. The enemies had settled on the rooftops and were currently praying. The BMP-3's had stopped coming and it looked like there were no enemy reinforcements dropping in anymore.

"I can't… die here, man."

Gerard responded by saying, "You're not gonna die, alright? You're not gonna die."

"Sorry…"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. You did what you were trained to do. You did perfect. You should be proud of that."

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Tell my parents that I fought well today… and that I… that I fought hard."

"Look, you're gonna tell 'em yourself. 'Kay?"

"Is… Is the convoy here?"

"They're coming, Band-Aid. Hang on. They'll be here in a little. Just hang on, you're a Ranger."

"I got it."

"You got it? Alright."  
"I got it… I got it…"

Band-Aid stopped speaking and exhaled. His chest stopped moving. His mouth had not closed.

"Oh, shit, hold the wound." Ruiz started doing CPR, pumping the chest and going mouth to mouth.

"Doc, doc, it's okay." Gerard grabbed Ruiz's shoulder lightly, but Ruiz swatted it away and resumed doing CPR.

"McAllen, this is Vortex. I have you in my sights. Do not, I say again, do not fire to your Northwest, we are coming to you."

"Roger that. Hurry up. They're in prayer, but we don't know when they're gonna start shooting."

With that, Rakken turned off his radio and talked to the sniper. "All right, you go first, McAllen and I will cover you. After you get there, you're gonna turn around and you're gonna cover me. Alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, go!"

The sniper half walked, half jogged to McAllen's position, limping along the way. The sniper rifle was being dragged along the ground with one hand on the gun.

"Rakken, I'm gonna need you to cover for me. I gotta check on Gerard."

"Roger that."

McAllen walked to the table inside, saw that Kaneshiro was dead, and grabbed the clip from Band-Aid's M16A2.

"What are you doing?" questioned Gerard.

"We need the ammo… Look, you did all you could here."

"Command should've sent a medivac."

"And then we'd be out there defending a downed chopper, more men would get torn up. Even if it didn't get shot down, people would die just getting to it."

"Maybe."

"See you're thinkin'. Don't. 'Cause Gerard, you cant control who gets hit or why. It ain't up to you. Its just war."

"Yeah? Well he's still dead. If command sent backup, none of this would've happened."

"Look, should have or would have. It doesn't matter, you'll get plenty of time to think about that later, believe me. Sergeant, you got your men this far. You did it right today. You need to start thinking about getting these men out of here."

Gunfire erupted again and they could hear the sound of an armed minibird, reassurance that command had not forgotten them.

"Well," said McAllen with a smirk, "Shall we?"

"Holy shit, would ya look at that." The pilot had the NOD (Night Observation Device) on his helmet, also called night-vision. With the bright lights flying at each other under him, he couldn't see anything. "This is Nighthawk 2, in position for gun run." The AH-6J Little Bird, painted black, could be heard, but it could barely be seen in the night sky.

A voice came on the radio. "This is Rakken, you're right above me."

"Rakken, I can't tell who's who down there. Too much activity."

"Fire on the building due east of you, over."

"Negative, I need a positive target. I have to make sure."

"All right, we'll pop smoke on the enemy, over."

"Roger that."

"Gerard, I can't run it! I'm wounded."

"All right! I'll pop the smoke." Gerard opened his pouch on his vest and pulled out a M18 smoke canister. He dropped his M16 and taking deep breaths, he decided to take a peep at the situation. Gunfire lit the night and sounds of bullets being ejected from guns drowned out other sounds. Snaps and hisses sounded next to him as he poked his head out.

He drew back and McAllen, noticing this, declared, "You're gonna need some help!"

"Cover me!"

"Okay guys, we're gonna give him full cover for him on three. Ready? 1…" Operators and Rangers all around brought their weapons around the corner and tensed their fingers on the trigger. "2…" The troops aimed down their sights and pressed the butt of their weapon firmly against their shoulders. "3!" Combatants all around thumbed their Automatic firing mode and chose a target. They fired their weapons and Gerard ran halfway, approximately 20 meters, primed it, and threw it like a football.

The can-shaped grenade went off in sparks, and white smoke started to pour out.

"I see it. I got your position. I got your target. We're inbound and hot."

The pilot pressed his control stick forward and the chopper slanted forward. He squeezed the trigger and the two multi-barreled M134 Miniguns on the bird rotated, firing a nonstop salvo of bullets with a fire rate of several thousand rounds per minute. The 7.62 mm rounds penetrated any variant of bulletproof vests the enemy had on, and when the pilot thumbed the other button on his stick, two M260 rocket pods released 2.75 inch Hydra 70 rockets, causing further enemy casualties. Enemies tried returning fire and those that did were run down.

"Command, miniguns dry, request permission to return to base, rearm."

"Roger."

"Vortex, we're returning to base. I saw the 10th mountain near your position, they have a few miles to go, but they're encountering a lot of resistance and roadblocks, you're on your own for now, over. Second team inbound, ten minutes."

"Roger."

As soon as Rakken had said that, he heard his Corporal yell, "Shit, grenade!"

The Sergeant turned around and all could do was watch as the wounded sniper limp a couple steps and collapse on it.

"Noooo!" A moment later, the sniper was lifted a few inches off the ground and fell back down. The dead Corporal lay motionless as Rakken rushed to him. He felt for a pulse, there was none. Ruiz just lay next to Band-Aid, next door, staring at the sniper, crying. Rakken slammed the ground with his fist. "Fuck! Stupid motherfucker! If you had listened to me, you would still be fucking alive right now, you stupid fuck!" Rakken just kneeled there, breathing hard, in the middle of a battle. Slowly, he picked up his weapon, kicked the sniper, and returned to the battle.

A few minutes later, the team could once again hear the rotor blade of the helicopter. It hovered above the Spetsnaz for a minute, but did not fire.

"That's not our chopper. Shit… they're dropping reinforcements." The troops could see the hatches open and troops sliding down ropes.

"Incoming!" An enemy Crew Chief had got on a machine gun on the helicopter and started firing the slugs at the troops. Pieces of cement flew off and a Rocket Propelled Grenade was fired.

"RPG!" It hit the dirt and the allied troops were blasted back. Rakken had been shot several times by the AN-94 slugs. As soon as he had lifted his head off the ground, the bullets had pierced his ceramic plates and dug deep into his body. He dropped back down, his open eyes staring straight ahead. The two closest to the RPG had shrapnel everywhere, clearly dead.

Several bodies lay motionless and the ones that moved went back to cover. A total of eight survivors were left, yet they continued to fight. "Sir, we won't last much longer!"

"I know that! We're gonna have to move out once the Little Bird comes! Shit! BMP's!" McAllen took his AT-4 from the back. "I need suppressing fire!"

"Roger, suppressing fire!"

McAllen stepped around the corner and fired a shot off. It hit the BMP, but it was not destroyed. "Draw off fire! When they stop to reload, cover me!" Eventually the fire had died down slightly and McAllen once again fired a rocket. The BMP's hatch literally popped out and the main cannon blew off.

"Second team in position, over. We got the target. Firing at mark… Mark!"

The rest of the living Operators and Rangers ran in the direction of the Bird, hoping to get around the corner, out of sight.

"Most tangos are down. I expect you can handle the situation, now."

"Roger that! Alright, whew, that was a close one. Looks like they're still firing at our previous position. We're gonna take up a position between those two wooden stands. Hoo-ah?"

"Hoo-ah."

Sergeant Zack looked back; the convoy was blown to hell. Only about two humvees and two Strykers were still mildly intact. He was driving through no resistance, following the instructions given to him for Command.

"All right, drive 20 yards forward, that's where they are."

"Roger that." He stopped the vehicles, looked around, and saw an enemy sniper. "Ambush! Get the fuck outta' here!

"Sir, I hear the convoy!"

"Roger that, get onboard!" The convoy had stopped far enough to escape, with all the enemies coming from behind. Everybody except McAllen and Gerard had gotten on, when an RPG hit one of the Strykers.

"Shit! Drive! Goddamn it, drive!"

"Goddamn!"

"Shit, wait for us! No!"

"Sir!" The Ranger's stayed in the vehicle, confused. A Delta Operative, true to his word about not leaving men behind, jumped out.

The Delta Operative simply referred to himself as "Sugar."

"Let's make a perimeter."

"Hoo-ah."

Five minutes later, the three were covering each other, shooting in the same direction. The locals, amused at the fact that only three American soldiers had been left behind, picked up their own weapons and tried the hit-and-run method.

Gerard rapidly fired his gun on semi-automatic while Sugar preferred to aim, a few seconds between pinpoint accurate shots in the head. McAllen's gun was fully automatic, providing the main source of covering fire.

Gerard stood up to throw a grenade, and a bullet into his vest threw him back. He fell onto the floor and as he tried to pick himself up, got shot in the arm.

"Arghh! Goddamn it!"

"Gerard, get in the building, now!"  
"Roger." Gerard went into the emptied out store and sat against one of the tables, tending to his fresh wound.

"Sugar, I need covering fire!"

"Roger!" Sugar thumbed the firing mode to automatic on his M4, and shot in bursts.

As soon as McAllen finished reloading his 416, Sugar had to reload. This process occurred many times.

"Captain, this is my last clip!"

"Roger! I'm on my last two clips! Shit! Technical!"

A .50 caliber machine gun started firing on his position and they started to duck. The two shot back and the gunner was down. McAllen had just reloaded and fired off his first round when a bullet went into his hockey helmet, and went out the other way.

"McAllen! Fuck!"

He grabbed McAllen's HK416 and the last clip for it. Then, he turned towards the shop and half jogged to Gerard. "Hey, McAllen's been shot. Put this to good use. I'll be outside." Sugar was halfway out when he turned his head and said the last words he would ever say. "Good luck."

With his last round in the M4 exited the chamber, he dumped it. Immediately he switched to his MK23 Mod 0 sidearm, and squeezed off a few rounds. The enemy had started coming in dozens at a time. Sugar had started to reload, and taking cover, the enemy grew closer. A round hit him in the arm, and he flinched. He was about to displace and run back, when he saw Gerard. He nodded at the Sergeant, signaling that he would be there with the Ranger until the very end.

Defying every human instinct to survive, Sugar stayed there, picking up McAllen's pistol and using it. A couple minutes later, the enemy was only a few yards away. He was leaning against a wooden cart, getting shot in the leg and arms. Some rounds had even made it into his stomach, and although blood leaked from his mouth in great amounts, he stayed.

He didn't try to escape. Some Spetsnaz soldier came up to him and started shooting him in the legs, point blank, making sure that the American felt the pain. Sugar dropped his weapon yelling from the pain. Several bullets hit his arms. The last thing he did was pick up his weapon again, squeezed off a round, missed, and collapsed. His body came crashing down on the floor, head first. A few more rounds had impacted on his vest as he fell down. He lifted his head slightly, and turned to Gerard.

"Good luck," he mouthed to Gerard, and a side-ward thumbs-up sign came. Sugar closed his eyes, and the blood still poured out off his mouth.

The Spetsnaz whooped, firing rounds into the air, ignoring the wounded enemy to the side of him. They slightly knew of the existence of SFOD-D, and because they had killed members of that supreme force, they were proud, looking forward to promotions.

Gerard felt his vest, and remembered that he still had a smoke grenade. He popped it, waited a few seconds, and threw it into the mob. It exploded and white, phosphorous smoke came out, blocking visual. Gerard held up the HK416 and blindly fired bursts into the cloud, hearing the sound of people screaming. After a few seconds, all the unsuspecting soldiers were dead. Or, at least, he thought they were. He dropped his weapon, giving up war, and walked out of the smoke. Suddenly, he felt something sharp hit his back, and he crumpled, his own conscious telling himself to give it up.

The Spetsnaz soldier spat blood and laughed, the rounds had penetrated him, and he was sure to die. But not without killing his enemy first. He cracked up and rolled on the floor, so joyful that the American had given up so easily and died. Then, a deep pain hit him and he was sleepy. "No," he thought. "Rescue is coming my way!" But he started drifted away, and fought the sudden urge. He used all his strength to sit up and opened his eyes. Then, his eyes widened, horror filling it. It was the American soldier he had just killed. The last thing he saw was the barrel of a German gun over his head.

"Who's fuckin' laughin' now?" He laughed hysterically, his mind refusing to accept that he was a lone survivor. He shot the bastard a few more times, literally splattering himself with someone else's brain. He collapsed onto the floor… feeling more tired than ever. His breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes.

"Gerard… Gerard… Hey, Gerard! Wake up, man!" He saw McAllen and Sugar sitting next to him, in their bloodied up uniforms and fresh wounds still there. He was in a hospital, somewhere.

Gerard had already begun tearing up. "What are you guys doin' here?"

"Nothin'. Just seein' how you're doin'."

"I'm sorry, guys. If I hadn't gotten wounded… If I hadn't slowed you guys down…"

"Look, it's not your fault. It wouldn't have made a difference. Besides, we'll come and go whenever you want us to. We have nothing else to do. By the way, you ever wanted to be in Delta Force?"

Gerard smirked. He had been trying to ever since he got in the army. "Hell yeah. Not lucky enough though."

"Great, soon as you make the Green Beret, I'll make your CO recommend you."

"Alright… So… When's the next time you're goin' to visit?"

Sugar answered this time. "Whenever we need to. Remember, you can't give up. I don't know how many times you've been told that. That act of suicidal yesterday? You're a fucking dumbass. We did it to save you. Not let you kill yourself."

"Alright."

"All right, well, duty calls."

"Thought you said you didn't have nothin' to do."

"I can't stay forever, man. Otherwise, I'd become a normal thing to see. And I'm not supposed to be seen now that I'm dead." McAllen smirked and so did Sugar, agreeing.

"So… I'll see you next time."

"Alright. Remember, it's not your fault." McAllen stood up and a white light surrounded him. It faded into the ceiling.

Sugar stood, his face staring at Gerard. "Good luck. You were worth it. It's not your fault, okay? Seriously, we wouldn't have made it if you weren't there anyway. I'll pop by sometime, when you need me."

With that, Sugar also disappeared.

"Alright…" Gerard started to tear up, and made no attempt to cover his loud sobbing. "See ya… I'll miss you… Fuck it… Fuck…Goodbye…" With that, he cried even louder, like a big baby.

"Doctor, he's talking to himself again."

"Alright. Get him some anesthetic. We got more wounded comin' in."

Gerard was clad in a hockey helmet with goggles, black body armor, and black coveralls. His HK416 was properly propped against his shoulder, rounds flying out of the chamber as he squeezed the trigger.

The wooden enemy targets fell down one by one, "hostages" being saved by his lightning quick reactions. For some reason, he had always felt Sugar and McAllen at his side while in Special Forces school. He felt as if they had helped him along, trained side by side with him. He could feel them, yet he couldn't see them. They told him instantly where to shoot, how to react, what to do. It was like he was being controlled, someone controlling his body,

Now, quickly moving on his feet, the gun ready to fire, he went through the house, feeling the energy and skill of both former Delta Operatives within and on the side of him.

"Stack up guys," Gerard whispered. Everyone did as they were told. Gerard pulled out his shotgun, fired a slug into one bolt, pumped it, fired it into another, pumped it again, and fired it into the last one. He kicked open the door and backed off, his teammates going into the room and double tapping the enemy.

"Clear!"

The process took six seconds.

After the training course, the commander congratulated the team for having the third best record, with Sugar's squad and McAllen's in the first two.

"Nice job, Master Sergeant. Now, it's time for your first mission. Head over to the debriefing room. Your squad goes out in an hour."


End file.
